


The Supreme Leader's Wife

by starlight_searches



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Choking, Cuckolding, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Language, F/M, Hux is annoyed and horny, Kylo has "I licked it so it's mine" energy, M/M, Name-Calling, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Reader is just happy to be here, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Switch! Kylo and Switch! Hux, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29123538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_searches/pseuds/starlight_searches
Summary: Wow, okay, I don’t really know where this came from and I probably won’t write anything like it again. Very loosely inspired by a drabble I posted on my tumblr a few days ago (you can find me @starlightsearches on there!). Shout out to the wonderful crylorenaissance for their support and encouragement. If you enjoy this, you should definitely check out their Emperess AU.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren/Reader, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren/You, Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	The Supreme Leader's Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay, I don’t really know where this came from and I probably won’t write anything like it again. Very loosely inspired by a drabble I posted on my tumblr a few days ago (you can find me @starlightsearches on there!). Shout out to the wonderful crylorenaissance for their support and encouragement. If you enjoy this, you should definitely check out their Emperess AU.

General Hux stands outside the door, hands clasped behind his back in tight fists, the fingers of one hand circling his other wrist with enough pressure to bruise. The nape of his neck itches, leftover moisture from the shower dripping down the collar of his greatcoat and wetting the back of his uniform. He had spent too long in the refresher, trying to wash the thoughts from his head, trying to decide whether or not he would even come—it had almost made him late.

He’s here, right on time, whether or not he should be. The door opens, and he steps inside the darkened room.

“Come in, General.” It’s Ren who speaks, voice low and quiet. Hux follows the sound, moving carefully in the darkness to the sitting area. Ren lounges arrogantly, sprawled on the couch like a throne, arms bare and stretched casually over the edge of the sofa, regarding Hux with the faintest hint of humor in his eyes. It puts him on edge.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“Yet I’m here.” Hux looks away, hoping he appears bored as he takes in his surroundings. He’d been in the Supreme Leader’s chambers before—on business—but you had never been around during those meetings. It’s strange how habitual it feels to look for you when he enters the space.

“She’s still getting ready,“ Ren pulls the thought right from Hux’s head, responding as if he had spoken aloud, "but I’m sure she’ll join us in a moment.”

“And it's— I mean, she knows that she doesn’t have to …” He sighs through his nose, his jaw clenched tight. Ren doesn’t bother to finish his sentence this time, sinking further into his seat—enjoying the way the general fumbles.

“Fuck you?” He finally offers, running his tongue over his teeth when a blush spreads over Hux’s cheeks, “this was her idea.”

 _Oh._ The general’s knees go weak, the blood rushing from his head, his cock certainly flushed and aching. How many times had he imagined what it would be like—fooled himself into believing that it was your hands, not his own, bringing him his release? How many times had he watched you speak and thought about pulling a moan from those pretty lips?

A part of him trembles, his body on full-alert, trying to bury those thoughts where Ren could not find them—as he had done before—but he manages to brush the fear away with some effort. Ren had certainly _already_ seen them, and, apparently, he didn’t mind.

The refresher door opens and you appear at the threshold, hesitant, but when your eyes meet his, you soften. The air is charged between you, hints of your desire evident in the warmth he feels just looking at you, in the way your teeth run softly over your bottom lip.

Ren beckons you to him with an outstretched hand, and, reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from Hux, moving across the room to your husband, the fabric of your robe swishing gently against your thighs.

He doesn’t usually let himself stare like this. He can resist the urge, most of the time, when you’re dressed for a meeting, or a gala, but he’s never seen _this_ much of your skin before. His eyes stay glued to the hem of the robe, the sway of your hips as you make your way to your husband.

You curl into Ren’s lap, and he holds you tightly, one possessive hand splayed wide over your stomach, the other trailing to fingers up and down the inside of your thigh. He presses a kiss to the junction of your shoulder and neck, and you melt, lips parting gently when he grazes the delicate skin with his teeth.

“Sit down, general.”

Desire pools in Hux’s stomach, and his palms grow moist in his gloves. He can’t help the shame that floods him, a ruddy heat that spreads through his torso all the way to the tips of his fingers and tells him to look away. His mind can not let go of the idea that this is not something meant for him to see, but he can’t deny the way his heart races when Ren’s hand trails higher, and he spies a hint of black lace at the apex of your thighs.

“I’d prefer to stand.”

“Sit down or leave,” Ren’s voice is steady and hard, totally unaffected as you move against him, writhing in his lap. He slips the hand on your stomach under the fabric of your robe, parting it beneath his fingers. He kneads your breast beneath the fabric and you press up into his touch, spine arching, jaw hanging open, your head falling back against Ren’s shoulder. Hux does as he’s told, falling into the chair behind him, holding back the curses that threaten to spill out from his lips.

“If I’m going to let you do this, you have to do as I say,” Ren continues, but Hux only half-hears him, infinitely more interested in the way the tendons in your neck flex as Ren slips one hand beneath the waistband of your panties, the fabric distorting with each long, slow stroke of his fingers. A low moan escapes your lips.

“Well, will you?” Ren smirks at him, pulling his hand from between your legs, taking his middle finger into his mouth, letting it linger before he pulls it out with a soft, wet pop. You whine at the lack of contact, the sound cut off by a small cry when he pinches your nipple beneath the fabric.

“Will I what?”

“Do as I say?” 

Hux’s core tightens, his jaw so stiff it’s a wonder it hasn’t snapped. He knows that Ren’s getting off on this—torturing him, making you so desperate and needy. He wants the one thing Hux swore he’d never give him.

“We’re waiting, general,” Ren strokes his hand from the hollow of your throat, between the valley of your breasts as he parts the robe down its center, exposing the barest sliver of skin before he meets the black lace again, stroking three thick fingers over your clothed cunt. Hux presses his lips together so firmly that they turn white.

Unphased by Hux’s stubborn response, Ren changes tactics. Shifting his attention to you, he grips your jaw in one massive hand and forces your eyes to meet his as he whispers, just loud enough for Hux to hear, “So wet already, little slut? Do you need the general to fuck you that desperately? Why don’t you tell him how badly you want his cock?”

“Please,” you’re grinding against nothing now that Ren has removed his hand, the word distorted by the strength of his hold on your face. A sharp pain draws Hux back from the scene before him, and he tastes blood, his teeth digging sharply into the meat of his cheek. He wonders if Ren would refuse your release if he decided to leave right now.

“Alright, fine. I’ll do whatever you want,” Hux can’t stop himself, can’t imagine going back to his quarters alone. His hands ache at the thought, unsure how many times he’d have to fuck his fist raw to stop seeing the image of you begging for him engraved on the back of his eyelids.

“Good. Why don’t you show him to the bed, love?”

Ren releases his grip on your jaw, sliding his hand out from under the robe, propelling you forward with a smack to your ass. Hux forces himself to make eye contact when you offer him your hand.

He follows you through the doors, to the bedroom, the heat of your skin sinking easily through the leather of his gloves and doing nothing to quell the sweat beading against his palms. The sight of the bed, with it’s dark, silky sheets makes him light-headed. This is the place you lay every night—the place where Ren has you, the way _he’s_ about to have you. Hux reminds himself to breathe.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hux whispers as you turn around to face him, pulling him closer with a hand at his waist. Ren hasn’t entered the room yet, and although the other man assured him it was fine, he’d never forgive himself if he learned that you had been coerced into this.

“I’m sure,” your smile is sincere, and you’re close enough now that your bodies brush, the material of your robe slipping gently against his uniform, “I’ve always wanted _this_. From the moment we met,” You stroke your hand up his side, fingers dancing lightly over his ribs before you take the collar of his great coat in your hands, pushing it down off his shoulders.

“You’ve always wanted … me?” The edge of the bed dips under his weight as you pull him into a sitting position, and he resists the urge to rub his palms over the tops of his thighs. You smile again, dropping your chin to your chest, suddenly shy.

“You didn’t know? I thought I had been too obvious.” 

Ren enters, chair in hand that he rests at the end of the bed before stretching out across it, his legs spread wide, making no effort at all to hide the considerable tent in his pants. Hux averts his eyes, more than a little flustered. He had passively assumed that Ren was well-endowed, given the man’s stature, but having his assumptions confirmed is an entirely new feeling.

Ren refuses to shy away from the attention, resting his hands behind his head, the picture of self-satisfaction. There’s a suggestive humor in his voice when he speaks.

“What are you waiting for, general? Kiss her.”

Hux collects himself, taking a moment to remember why he’s here before he does as he’s told, cupping your jaw lightly. There’s a soft sheen of moisture coating your lips, but you lick them regardless, darting your tongue over your skin as he pulls you closer. He presses his mouth to yours gently, and you sigh against his skin, sinking into him. He can feel your heartbeat in the tips of your fingers when you brush them over his cheeks.

“Like you mean it.” Ren’s voice cuts in, and Hux resists the urge to roll his eyes. He _is_ kissing you like he means it, not that Ren would understand that. He’s not about to pull away from you to argue that point, though. He pulls you closer instead, one hand firm at your waist, slipping his tongue into the warm center of your mouth. You taste sweeter than he had expected.

The room grows warmer, your heat sinking through his uniform, deep into his skin and he’s almost able to forget Ren’s presence, caught up in the infinitely more pleasurable feeling of your hands and your body on his. Your grip on his uniform is desperate, needy, but never harsh. His stomach lurches when you lay back, letting his weight rest more fully on top of you.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on your neck, and he collects it on his tongue, licking a stripe up the column of your throat, the salt of your skin mixing with the lingering flavor of the leftover perfume that still clings to you.

His fingers find the collar of your robe, pulling it down off your shoulder, lips trailing leisurely over your collar bones. He can feel, more than see, Ren’s irritation at his reluctance to speed up the process—his annoyance permeating the room—but he chooses to ignore Ren more fully. If he only had one chance to experience such long-lived fantasies, he was going to take his time. 

Your fingers card gently through his hair, stroking from the back of his neck up, pulling him closer, the wet heat of your breath soft against his ear. One of your hands finds his, letting him feel the soft lace that covers your breast under his fingers. 

He pulls away slightly, absorbed in the gentle shift in your expression when he runs the pad of his thumb softly over your pebbled nipple, relishing the quiet gasp the move elicits. 

You shrug the robe off your shoulders the rest of the way, leaning back with a coy smile, letting him admire the way the lingerie enhances your frame—the peaks and valleys of your body on display for him.

There’s no need for Ren to order him to continue—he’s back on you before the other man can express any kind of frustration, his lips on yours, clumsy and desperate and so damn _eager_ that he surprises himself. Hux’s fingers tremble against your back as he works to undo the clasp of your bra, a shaky breath of relief leaving his lungs when it gives way without too much trouble.

You slide the garment off your shoulders, letting him look at you, your chest littered with fading bruises—Ren’s marks. The general’s mouth waters, and he leans in closer, ready to taste more of you, but he comes to a halt when you press one hand lightly to his shoulder, stopping his approach. Your tongue traces the top of your teeth before you turn to look at Ren. 

Of course. He needs _permission_.

Ren’s leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together, the blood gone from his fingers. Hux is surprised that he had not touched himself yet. He would not have expected Ren to have that kind of restraint.

“You can leave marks of your own, if you’d like,” he says, shifting in his seat. His thinly veiled desperation brings a smile to Hux’s face—Ren didn’t have a monopoly on being difficult.

He turns back to you for confirmation, and you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Just nothing above the collar, general,” you snake your hand over his again, pressing it into the supple flesh of your breast. 

Hux has never believed in the existence of a pleasant afterlife—especially not for someone like him—but he’s sure that if one did exist it would pale in comparison to the way you gasp when he presses a kiss to the valley of your breasts, the hummingbird beat of your heart making itself known against the tip of his nose. 

He wastes no time now, lavishing your body with the press of his lips, occasionally surprising you with a soft bite, the gentle graze of his teeth. Subtly, he lets one hand trace its own path down the curve of your waist and over the swell of your hip before nestling it gently between your thighs. 

“ _General_ ,” you gasp when he slides one finger past the hem of your panties and into your waiting heat, your cunt giving a preliminary squeeze around the solitary digit. Your hips shift against his hand, body desperate for more, but he refuses to give in, pinning your hips in place with the edge of his own. Hux has always been a patient man. He wouldn’t dream of rushing this.

“So needy, Your Highness,” he whispers, ghosting the pad of his thumb gently against the stiff peak of your clit in slow, languorous circles, “Has your husband not been fucking you the way that he should?”

You moan quietly in response, the sound muffled by the fabric of his uniform as you bury your head the crook of his neck. He keeps his movements slow and methodical, curling his finger against your tender front wall on each stroke, increasing the pressure on your clit with steady precision. A lower, deeper sound joins the steady chorus of your sighs and Hux’s heavy breathing. 

He catches Ren’s eye over the expanse of dark sheets. It seems the Supreme Leader has finally given in, one hand stroking up and down his clothed length with excruciating leisure. The muscles in his jaw tighten, a testament to the restraint it must take to only offer himself this inadequate kind of relief, his dark hair plastered in slick strands against his sweat-soaked skin. There’s an animal, in his features—a carnal and base burning in his eyes that he cannot mask. 

Hux snorts. Ren had spent all this time pretending that _this_ was a favor for the general—bargaining chip, a kind of leverage. But the veil has been lifted. Ren is enjoying himself just as much as you are.

He adds a second finger without warning, savoring the way you shake against him, how exquisite you look with your head pressed into the mattress, eyes shut tight and jaw pressing against the boundaries of your skin in a silent scream of ecstasy.

“General, please,” you manage to whimper, the languid movement of your hips meeting him at every stroke, chasing after the peak of your pleasure. He stills his hand.

“Armitage,” he says brusquely, breathing labored, the sound blocked out by the soft cry that escapes your lungs, tears of frustration pricking the corners of your eyes, “call me Armitage if you want to cum.” 

“Do as he says,” Ren orders with no attempt to mask the tremor in his voice, stilling the pace of his hand to a stop, savoring the pain of his own stolen release. 

“Armitage,” you grip at his uniform with both hands, pulling his mouth to yours, desperation evident in your every movement, “please, _gods_ , please—”

He lets you kiss him, focuses all the attention of his hand on your clit, the movement of his thumb against the sensitive skin quicker and harder but no less steady. 

He feels you break against him, your jaw left slack as he licks into your mouth, your thighs quivering at his sides, cunt clenching around his sopping fingers. He holds you against him until the shaking stops. 

Your kiss finds his cheek first, arms heavy and graceless as they pull him closer, your lips traveling sloppily against his skin until they meet his own. You press your mouth to his, and some part of him thinks that it feels like love. Wishes that it could be love. 

You whisper something to him, breathing too hard for the words to come out clearly, your hand teasing him through the fabric of his trousers. His cock jumps, unfamiliar with this kind of attention; it’s not love, but maybe it’s enough.

Your fingers make quick work of the fastenings on his uniform, pushing it from his shoulders, your hands trailing down his arms, the cold air collecting against his skin for only a moment before you sweep it away with your searing touch. You lift your hips into his, slipping your underwear off with both hands, totally bare for him.

“Enjoying yourself?” You’re not talking to him, Hux knows—his enjoyment is more than obvious as he licks and sucks over the soft flesh of your chest, your voice catching when he takes your nipple into his mouth with a soft bite. You’ve turned your attention to Ren, now, and Hux pauses his ministrations, passively curious. He watches as you pass the sweat and slick-soaked lace in your hand to your husband, who balls them into his tight fist, working the fabric leisurely over the head of his now-uncovered dick.

“I think you’re being spoiled, love,” he says, leaning closer, on his knees at the side of the bed. He strokes his thumb across your cheek, sparing a short glance for Hux, “you’ve been letting the general do all the work. Why don’t you show him how good you can be? How good you always are for me?”

Hux’s breath hitches. He likes the sound of that. 

You smile wide at the thought, pressing a soft kiss to Ren’s unsuspecting lips. He stands quickly, turning back the way he came, but not before Hux catches the softest hint of a blush spreading across his temple.

You press against Hux’s torso, guiding him into a sitting position. He rests at the edge of the bed, chest thrumming as you straddle him, your thighs caging his hips against the mattress and your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers slip down his spine until you reach the hem of his undershirt. He stops you from untucking it with a hand on your wrist.

“I’d like to keep it on,” he knows you can feel the trepidation in his shaking hands; he sees the questions in your eyes, and for a moment he’s afraid, wondering if you also have your husband’s talent for picking thoughts from his mind—if you somehow know the way his stomach sinks at the thought of being totally uncovered. 

“Alright,” you say, brushing past the pause, leaning closer to caress the ruddy skin of his chest with your lips, the glide of your tongue over his skin pulling any and every insecurity from his head. When you drag your hips over his, your bare pussy sliding deliciously over his dick, he forgets everything but his own name.

He’s not sure how it happens, whether it’s your hands or his own that finally pull his cock into the open air—he’s gone lightheaded, arms shaking as he grips the sheets in white-knuckled fists, focusing all the energy he can summon on keeping upright.

The head of his cock stutters against your entrance, the slick on your skin coating his own as you shift your hips back and forth with just enough pressure to keep him hard, letting out a delighted gasp when he twitches, the tip of him bumping up against your swollen clit.

“That’s enough teasing.” Ren stands behind you, one hand on your shoulder, the muscles in his other arm flexing as he pumps his cock in his hand more vigorously. You roll your eyes, turning to press a soft kiss to Ren’s chest before seating yourself fully on the general’s stiff cock.

The air punches from Hux’s lungs, his brow furrowed, breathing hard as he adjusts to the feeling. 

Hux had spent plenty of time jealous of Ren, a kind of awed hatred that his greatest rival had so much of what Hux desperately wanted for himself. Power, glory, accolade. It’s all dust compared to the way you envelop him on that first and divine thrust.

“Does he feel good, love?” Ren asks, peppering the skin of your shoulders with a few soft kisses before he tucks one finger under his chin, admiration in his eyes as he takes in your pleasure-soaked expression. “Is it everything you wanted?”

“Hmm,” you hum contentedly, circling your hips steadily, getting a feel for his length and size, squeezing him just right, “ _perfect_.” 

You speed up slightly, lengthening your strokes, pulling away from him until only the head remains inside before seating yourself down once again, trembling with each sublime impact, your thighs shaking with each movement. 

“Just— Just like that,” Hux stutters, head lolling back, letting himself enjoy this. He likes it more than he thought he ever would—allowing someone else this kind of control, letting you set the pace. He wants you to feel good. He wants you to use him.

Ren looms over both of you, his chest flush with your back, the pressure from his body only heightening the gratification Hux feels.

You whine, pressing the general into the mattress, laying him flat on his back with your hands on your shoulders before you sit up, the deeper angle pulling cries from your lips like never before.

“Please, my love,” you press one hand back against Ren’s chest, fingers too limp to reach for him, but he already knows what you want. Hux watches as one of Ren’s giant hands encircles your neck, and he kisses you deeply, the tears that coat your cheeks glistening in the low light. It’s a mess of a kiss, all teeth and tongue, Ren so eager to please and you so desperate for pleasure.

“Gods— f-fuck,” Hux reaches his precipice sooner than he might have hoped, the sight of you so thoroughly fucked and writhing against Ren bringing him to a high he had not previously thought possible. You recognize his need, snapping your hips faster.

Ren removes his hand from your neck and slides it down over the damp skin of your stomach, pushing one thick finger to the space where your body meets Hux’s, sliding it between your folds.

“Cum for me,” he commands, working quick hard circles over your clit, “both of you. Cum for me now.”

You let go with one shattered breath, riding him through your release, spilling over him with a scream. It’s celestial, this divine indulgence. There is no god in this universe but you and your magnificent cunt.

Hux abandons himself, spilling deep within you with a groan, every muscle in his body aching as his own climax finds him and his vision goes white. His heart leaves his chest, no other reason to beat now that he’s had this.

You fall into him, stroking one hand absentmindedly over his hair, your shaking bodies unable to do anything but breathe together. The slap of skin and soft grunts fills the room as Ren chases his own release, breath stuttering in his chest when he finds it, ropes of his thick, white cum painting down your spine and then he collapses, too.

Ren lands in a messy heap, half on top of you and half on the bed, smearing his own spend over his skin. Without warning, Hux finds Ren’s mouth against his own in a fierce kiss. 

Hux waits for some kind of repulsion to overcome him, waits for the return of the burning hatred that normally occupies his chest whenever Ren is present, but it never comes, a different kind of burning taking his place. More than anything, he’s annoyed. Annoyed how good Ren’s mouth feels against his own. Annoyed that he wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

“There,” Ren says, rolling back on the mattress, relieving you of the weight of his body, “now both of you are mine.”

Hux scoffs, offended at the implication, but he can tell you notice the way his cock twitches inside of you at the thought. You smile knowingly, pressing a soft kiss to his temple as you roll off of him on the other side, the three of you lying together in the rosy-colored afterglow.

Minutes pass, or hours, Hux is unsure how many when he finally decides to move, his muscles stiff and aching.

“I should return to my quarters,” he says, lifting himself to his feet and reassembling the pieces of his uniform. You move to sit up, but Ren holds you in place with a gentle hand.

“Rest, my love,” he says quietly, “I’ll show him to the door.”

Hux leaves you with one final kiss, one of longing, and hope and gratitude. Your fingers brush against his just before he leaves.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between the two men as they move through the abandoned living area.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Ren says as Hux stops just before the threshold, turning to look at him. 

“I didn’t expect that it would,” he replies. Both men know that they’re lying to each other. And maybe, at this moment, while their skin is still warm from a shared love and the scent of your perfume lingers on both of their clothes, it’s a form of kindness to keep believing that this wouldn’t change their world. For now, this is enough.

Hux returns to his quarters, alone but not lonely. For the first time he can remember since he boarded the _Supremacy_ , he sleeps through the night. 


End file.
